The League Of Good Guys
by nice-day
Summary: A young Trunks and Goten play host to an unusual meeting...


Disclaimer I don't own the rights to DBZ, or any of the characters therein. I don't own any of the other non-DBZ characters mantioned in this story either. I'm won't list them all here, you'll know 'em when you see 'em. Enjoy.  
  
The day was a warm one, but not unusually so. The mid-spring morn had brought an agreeable warmth upon the world, encouraging its creatures forth from there nests and dens. Nowhere was this more evident than among the undulating grasslands that surrounded the sprawling, yet unobtrusive, Valley Town. Across the slopes and brows of the rolling hills, birds and insects darted and dove among the swaying greenery, the soothing sounds of their activities belying the life and death nature of their pursuit.  
  
Overlooking all of this, was the land form known to the locals as The Old Man Of The Valley. It was said that, when viewed in profile, this otherwise unremarkable cliff face mimicked the face of an elderly gentleman enjoying a well earned slumber. Indeed, the benevolent look of the granite likeness was accentuated by unthreateningly gentle slope of the cliff, and the pockets of plant life that it had allowed to take up residence among its many nooks and crevices.   
  
A warm breeze blew silently across the face of the cliff, as if to soothe the dormant giant in his sleep. Atop the old man's brow, about twenty meters from the edge, stood a sparse copse populated by an array of wizened trees and youthful shrubs, all of whom were enjoying the bounty of the spring Sun. Here too, the sights and sounds of the indigenous fauna completed a vivid painting of a flawless Spring day. This was nature and civilisation in rare harmony, with little sign of the restful equilibrium being disturbed.  
  
"Come on Goten," a shrill voice permeated through the gently quivering undergrowth, "your too slow!"  
  
It was only a few moments before the soft shaking of the vegetation became a violent quaking. Even this was short lived, however, as before the ring of the anonymous voice had died down, a small form erupted at blinding speed from amid the convulsing leaves. The emergence of this orange blur triggered a burst of greenery as the force of its flight tore the leaves from their wooden perches. As the displaced leaves began to slowly rain to the ground, the speedy object decelerated from its sprint, and came to rest a few meters from the edge of the copse.   
  
A young boy, little more than eight years of age, manifested from the bright streak of colour. The youth wore a yellow T-shirt and red shorts, the amalgamation of these vivid colours having been responsible for the illusion of an orange object. The boy's head was garnished by a mane of light purple hair that hung down in a bowl cut.   
  
As he looked out across the nearby hills and slightly more distant buildings, the boy gave a slight smile, denoting a quiet pleasure at the picturesque scene.  
  
"Hey, wait up Trunks!" A second juvenile voice rang out.  
  
Trunks looked back over his shoulder upon hearing the words. Slowly, the smile of contentment changed to a mischievous smirk. Hastily, he scampered to a tree that stood at the fringe of the small wood, and carefully concealed himself. There he waited, his back flush against the coarse bark of the tree.  
  
Moments later, the tangle of bushes burst into life once more as a second orange form darted from amid their pliable branches. In a lightning fast motion that rivalled the this new arrival for speed, Trunks thrust his right foot out from behind the tree. In the ensuing instant, the orange blur struck his outstretched limb. At this, the orange streak emitted a yelp of surprise and quickly succumbed to gravity. The streak became a violently spinning ball as the individual rolled end-over-end across the open grassland, tearing up chunks of turf as he did.  
  
Through a combination of flailing his limbs and clawing at the ground, the unfortunate subject of Trunks' cruel practical joke finally emerged from his roll, coming to rest a few meters from the edge of the cliff. There, sitting among unevenly grown clumps of grass looking distinctly dazed, was a second young boy. He was slightly younger than the first, and seemed better dressed for a martial arts tournament than a day in the countryside. He wore an orange combat garment, tied at the waste with a deep blue cloth belt. His hair was a shock of jet black which, but for a few blades of grass picked up in transit, was totally immaculate. Over his right shoulder he carried a black backpack. A second, similar bag now rested in the grass a few feet to his left, having been displaced from his other shoulder during his tumble.  
  
"Hey, are you okay?" Trunks chuckled as he trotted over to where Goten sat.  
  
"No," Goten groaned, his eyes still rolling in their sockets, "I think I'm gonna hurl..."  
  
This only served to compound Trunks' amusement, though the youngster did feel a measure of guilt at how entertained he had been at his friend's misfortune.  
  
"Sorry about that. But you've got to admit, it was pretty funny." Trunks chuckled with a disarming smile.  
  
"If you say so." Goten muttered sceptically.   
  
"Hey, no hard feeling's. Nothing's broken, right?" Trunks said, extending a hand towards his floored companion.  
  
Goten rubbed his head, and looked suspiciously towards Trunks as he reached out.  
  
"No, I guess not." Goten sighed, and reached out to grasp Trunks' hand.   
  
However, the forgiving smile that graced Goten's face quickly gave way to a look of puzzlement as Trunks reached out straight past his own outstretched hand. Instead of hauling Goten from the ground, the young half-Saiyan grasped a strap of the backpack that lay on its face nearby. He lifted from the ground, then undid the fastener and open the up the sack. Under the disapproving gaze of his friend, Trunks inspected the contents.  
  
"Yup, everything seems to be in one piece." He observed.  
  
"Thanks for the help." Goten mumbled ironically, as he endeavoured to raise himself to his feet.  
  
Goten swung the second pack down from his shoulder, and placed carefully on the ground. He then began to brush the residual traces of foliage from his clothing and from his hair. Then, with this task complete, he took a step towards Trunks who was still peering into the depths of his pack, and made ready to launch into a complaint at his behaviour. Trunks got there first, however.  
  
"So," he stated loudly, deliberately cutting off Goten's imminent protest, "are we gonna get this thing started or what?"  
  
Goten paused, his finger still raised in preparation for a scolding, and looked quizzically at Trunks.  
  
"Uh, get what thing started?" he enquired.  
  
"The meeting, remember?" Trunks replied, impatiently.  
  
"Meeting...oh right, the meeting!" Goten shouted in sudden realisation.  
  
"Hey, keep it down," Trunks half whispered, "this is meant to be top secret. Or have you forgotten about that too?"  
  
"Oh...sorry." Goten apologised at a more modest volume.   
  
"That's okay," Trunks happily accepted the apology, having totally bamboozled Goten out of his anger with him, "now, lets set up."  
  
"All right." Goten grinned.  
  
With that, Trunks upended the bag in his hands, causing a hail of plastic figurines that tumbled onto the crisp grass below. Goten dropped himself back into a sitting position, and proceeded to open up and sift through the bag he had been carrying. From its depths, he produced a large, plaid table cloth. Whipping it out of its folded state, he spread it out across the grass before him. Goten then leaned forward and began to smooth the creases from the cloth.  
  
"Did you bring the stuff?" Trunks asked, looking up from his task of placing the assorted figures in a carefully plotted seating arrangement around the rug.  
  
"Sure did." Goten grinned, before reaching into the backpack once more.   
  
The young Saiyan's hand rooted around for a few moments before finally emerging, clasping a generously proportioned back of crisps. He then reached back into the bag, and pulled out a multi-pack of cookies. Then he delved into the bag once again. This relentless search-and-retrieve operation continued for some time under Trunks' quietly astonished gaze. It seemed that the pack contained a quantity items that exceeded its own volume. Gradually, the mound of junk food piled up at the heart of the picnic spot.  
  
"Gee Goten, are you sure you brought enough?" Trunks' enquired, facetiously, as he watched a can of cola roll from its position atop a box of Swiss rolls, narrowly missing Spiderman upon reaching the ground.  
  
"Hmmm... I'm not really sure," Goten replied, sitting back to survey the impressive mountain of confection, "there wasn't really that much stuff in the kitchen."  
  
"So that's it, huh?" Trunks smiled.  
  
"Well... there was one other thing." Goten said, before disappearing into the backpack one last time.  
  
Trunks looked on in disbelief. How could there possibly be anything else in there?  
  
"Ah ha! Got it!" Goten exclaimed. He then heaved a quite substantial object out of the bag.  
  
"Goten," Trunks addressed his friend, calmly, "that's a ham."  
  
"Sure is," Goten replied, "I thought that, since we had so much sweet stuff, we should have something a bit more savoury. Or at least, that's what my mom's always saying."  
  
Goten placed the mammoth hunk of meat precariously atop the mound of food, and sat back in place, between Batman and G.I Joe. Trunks just stared at the ham.  
  
"Something wrong?" Goten asked, concerned at his companion's silence.  
  
"Dude, its still frozen." Trunks observed in reply.  
  
"Yeah," Goten said, looking up at the frost encrusted meat, still bound in its cellophane straight jacket, "I figured we could just blast it, or something."  
  
"Is that right? Uh, maybe we should save it for later." Trunks suggested, his face curled up in a look of disgust at the thought of eating ki blasted meat.   
  
"Okay." Goten shrugged. He stood up, removed the ham from the food mound, and placed it back in the pack which now sat behind him.   
  
"Right, let's get this thing started." Trunks said thoughtfully, as he scoured the floor around his position.   
  
Goten retook his place at the picnic. Plucking a Kit-Kat from the refreshment pile, he waited patiently for Trunks to bring the meeting to order.  
  
"Ah ha," Trunks muttered, having found what he was looking for beneath the empty pack used to transport the attendees of the meeting, "there you are."  
  
Trunks turned back to the waiting crowd of heroes, and presented a polyurethane likeness of Metropolis' greatest hero, Superman.  
  
"This meeting of the League of Good Guys will now come to order." Trunks stated in an unnaturally deep voice. As he did so, he gently waved the figure of Superman from side to side, signifying that these were the words of the spandex clad hero.  
  
At this, Goten released a chuckle of excitement, and shifted around in his grassy seat. In the moments Trunks had spent searching for Superman, Goten's face had already been painted in a thick coat of molten chocolate.  
  
"Okay," Trunks continued to speak as his caped alter ego, "first of all, I'd like to thank G.I Joe for bringing us together for this, the first ever annual heroes' picnic."  
  
Trunks then paused, looking straight at Goten. His friend returned his gaze for a few seconds, before finally interpreting the silent prompt.  
  
"Oh right," he said, then grasped the G.I Joe figure from the ground beside him, "uh, thank you very much Superman. It was my pleasure." Goten spoke, also mimicking an adult voice.  
  
Trunks waited for Goten to replace the toy before continuing.  
  
"Next up, some apologies. First of all, He-Man would like to apologise for not attending the Superhero fund-raiser last week. It turns out that Battle Cat had battle kittens on the same night as the event. Er, congratulations, by the way. Also, Batman would like to apologise for leaving heroing practise early on Saturday. He had to go because he developed a ladder in his tights during the fight-scene class. Don't sweat it Batman, we all know how hard it is to get good latex clothing these days."  
  
"Here, here." Goten rasped, in an attempt to simulate many voices speaking in unison.   
  
"Now," Trunks continued, "onto new business. It has come to my attention that someone has ringing the door bell of the League of Good Guys headquarters and running away. At the moment, prime suspects include Magneto, Ming The Merciless, evil Emperor Zurg, Skel..."  
  
Trunks ceased mid-sentence, distracted by the sound of quiet mumbling from the ranks. Across the table cloth sat Goten, with G.I Joe in one hand and Buzz Lightyear in the other, apparently conducting a clandestine conversation between the two. Frowning with disapproval, Trunks cleared his throat loudly.  
  
"Huh," Goten responded, then quickly realised his transgression, "oh, sorry."   
  
He delivered the final segment of his reply in the mock adult tone, the apology having been intended to come from the individuals he grasped in his hands.  
  
"All right," Trunks resumed his address, "back to business. Suspects are Magneto, Ming, Zurg, Skeletor, and Megatron. Spiderman has suggested that we start a neighbourhood watch scheme in co-operation with the Sidekicks' Club across the street in order to combat this foul criminal's activities. Batman will be speaking to Robin about this in the near future. Also, I would like to submit for consideration by the League, an application for membership submitted by the Great Saiya Man. Now, I realise he is quite new to the heroing scene, but..."  
  
Once again, Superman's speech was interrupted by muttering from the opposite side of the picnic. This time, Superman broke up the conversation in no uncertain terms.  
  
"Er, is there something you would like to share with your fellow League members?" Trunks thundered, directing his genuine frustration via the voice of the plastic effigy he held.  
  
Once again, Goten was orchestrating an exchange between G.I Joe and Buzz Lightyear.   
  
"Whuh..." Goten mumbled distantly, looking up at the vexed Trunks, "oh...I was just...I mean, we were just discussing our watches."  
  
"Is that so? And this is more important than League business, is it?" Superman scolded.  
  
"No," Goten stated on behalf of G.I Joe, "its just that, Buzz was showing me his standard issue Star Command digital field watch, and I was showing him my super durable analogue combat watch. We were just trying to decide which was better...uh, what about you? Do you prefer digital, or analogue?"  
  
"First of all," Trunks barked in his Superman voice, "I don't wear a watch! Second, even if I did, I wouldn't be rude enough to blabber on about it in the middle of a League of Good Guys meeting!"  
  
There was a pause. Then, Goten emitted a peculiar sound. It was sort of a blubbering, though, Goten himself did not appear to be crying. On closer inspection, Trunks noticed that his companion was waving the G.I Joe figure from side to side, apparently suggesting that the scaled down soldier was meant to be the source of the bawling.  
  
"Joe, what are you doing?" Trunks asked, still speaking through Superman.  
  
"Your mean," came the reply from Buzz Lightyear, "you made G.I Joe cry."  
  
It was then that Trunks decided to break out of character.  
  
"What the hell are you doing, Goten? G.I Joe doesn't cry." He protested.  
  
"Yes he does," Goten replied, also breaking from character, "my mom says that real men aren't afraid to show their emotions."  
  
"Yeah, well your mom says a lot of things." Trunks sighed.  
  
Goten frowned, then opened his mouth to rebuke Trunks' comment. However, before he spoke, his expression softened as he paused for thought.  
  
"Yeah, she does sorta," Goten conceded, then quickly returned to the guise of Buzz Lightyear, "but still, you shouldn't have been mean to Joe. He was the one who organised this picnic after all."  
  
"That's not the point," Trunks retorted, reprising his role as Superman, "I'm the head of this organisation, and you should respect my authority."  
  
"Oh yeah?! Well... well...well I challenge your leadership!" Buzz dropped the bombshell.  
  
Trunks raised his eyebrows in surprise, then smiled.  
  
"And just how do you intend to do that?" he asked.  
  
"How about a contest? I'll race you!" Goten garbled, making up his challenge as he went along.  
  
"Hah! A race?! With me?! Everyone knows that Superman is the fastest guy there is...well, after Trunks' dad, anyway." Trunks scoffed, adding the last part with tongue-in-cheek.  
  
"Oh yeah, well your just chicken!" Goten barked back on Buzz's behalf, before proceeding to emit the sounds of the afore mentioned barnyard animal.  
  
Goten then dragged himself up from the ground, and began to gallop over to the edge of the cliff. Concerned about what his overexcited friend might do next, Trunks dropped the Superman facade once more.  
  
"What are you doing, Goten?" he enquired, getting up to follow the hyper half-Saiyan.  
  
"I'm going to get ready for the race." Goten called back over his shoulder.  
  
Reaching the cusp of the cliff, Goten looked down to the Buzz Lightyear toy. Flipping over, he depressed a small red button at the centre of its back. This prompted two plastic fins to pop out of slits in the spaceman's backpack with a satisfying click. Becoming increasingly concerned at what might happen next, Trunks picked up the pace.  
  
"You better get over here Superman," Buzz shouted to his superior, "or I'll start without you!"  
  
"Start? What do you mean start?" Trunks asked, but his question was soon answered.  
  
Slowly, Goten began to draw up the hand in which he held his figure.   
  
"To infinity..." Goten uttered in a dramatic tone of voice, as he pulled the flight-ready Lightyear back over his shoulder.  
  
"Goten!" Trunks barked as he realised what was going on, but it was all for nought.  
  
"...and beyond!" Goten completed the catch phrase.  
  
With this, he hurled the plastic hero skywards with all the force his diminutive frame could muster. Buzz Lightyear hurtled from the Saiyan's outstretched hand, drawing out a steep, diagonal trajectory across the clear, Spring sky. Trunks arrived at the cliff edge just in time to hear the distant sonic boom as Buzz's plastic body crashed through the sound barrier.   
  
"Good arm." He sighed, as the distant point that was Lightyear evaporated into the pale blue firmament.  
  
"Yup," Goten agreed, sporting a wide grin as he admired his handy work, "He sure showed Superman, huh?"  
  
"I'll say," Trunks concurred, "he must be half way to Star Command by now. But uh, I don't think your mom's gonna be too happy about you throwing Buzz into orbit."  
  
The grin quickly melted from Goten's face on hearing this.  
  
"Uh oh, your right. Man, I am in so much trouble if she finds out about this. And I know just what she'll say too," Goten then proceeded in a mock female voice, ""Goten! If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times! Don't throw your toys into outer space!""  
  
Trunks chuckled at his friend's impersonation of Chi Chi. The funniest thing about it was that it wasn't half bad.  
  
"Well, if its any consolation, at least it wasn't one of my toys." Trunks quipped.  
  
"Thanks." Goten laughed, sarcastically.  
  
The pair laughed and joked between themselves for little while about the general silliness of the situation, before Goten was drawn out of the exchange by a distant distraction.  
  
"Hey Trunks," he said, bringing Trunks out of a giggle of his own, "did you hear something?"  
  
"No." Trunks replied, adopting his companions concerned expression.  
  
The two stood in silence for a few moments, before Goten spoke at once more.  
  
"There it is again," he insisted, "don't you hear it?"  
  
Trunks did hear it, but he wished he hadn't. Waiting in silence once again, the two listened as the sound rose up above the whispering of the leaves and the chattering of the birds. It was a voice, distant, but drawing nearer each time it rang out.  
  
"I hope that's not what I think it is." Trunks fretted.  
  
The voice rang out from amid the foliage again, this time loud enough for the words to be apparent.  
  
"Goten!" the shrill voice pierced the warm air.  
  
"Oh geez..." Goten squealed, "it's my mom!"  
  
As if to reiterate the worried boy's words, a frantic rustling began to emanate from across the copse. The sound was promptly followed by another summons.   
  
"Goten! Where are you?! You'd better not be playing by that cliff, young man!" Chi Chi's disagreeable strains now dominated the ambient sounds.  
  
Goten began to panic as his mind flashed through all the different ground rules he had flagrantly disregarded by just being there. Desperate for help, Goten turned to Trunks, who, as usual, was wearing a look of concerned resolve in a tough situation.  
  
"Oh man, Trunks. What are we gonna do?" Goten panicked.  
  
"I don't know what we're gonna do," Trunks said calmly, turning to face Goten, "but I sure as hell no what I'm gonna do."  
  
These words were a cue for Trunks to sprint over to the scene of the picnic, and begin to pluck those action figures that were his from their seats. Covering the whole perimeter of the picnic blanket, he then picked up one of the backpacks, and dumped the twisted mass of artificial bodies into its depths.  
  
"If you want to get escape with your life, you'd better grab what's yours and split." Trunks advised Goten as he made his way to the edge of the cliff.  
  
"But-but I can't fly!" Goten stammered, with his mother's irate voice for backing.  
  
"Well, your welcome to come with me," Trunks offered, "I could probably carry you too. But I'm definitely not staying here to take the rap."  
  
Goten took what precious time he could to contemplate this possibility. Then, realising the futility of running, he sighed in resignation.  
  
"No," Goten declined, "you had better go on with out me. It'd only make things worse if I tried to run, anyway."  
  
"Suit yourself," Trunks shrugged, "good luck with your mom. See you around, Goten...I hope."  
  
With that, Trunks bounded over the edge of the cliff and, in a brilliant flash of ki energy, rocketed into the open sky. Goten watched as his friend vanished into the vast, blue expanse, then sighed once more.   
  
"Goten! I know your over there," Chi Chi yelled, startling a flock of small birds into flight from the canopy of the wood, "you're in big trouble, mister!"   
  
Shuddering at this fear evoking sound, Goten turned to face the trembling foliage, and to face the music.  
  
THE END 


End file.
